


Wanderers in the Fourth Dimension…of the Brownstone

by Quipxotic



Category: Doctor Who (1963), Elementary (TV)
Genre: Characters Watching Doctor Who, Fluff, Gen, Huddling For Warmth, Post-Season/Series 03, Sharing a Bed, Sickfic, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-07-12 08:32:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7094443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quipxotic/pseuds/Quipxotic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joan begins a marathon of classic Doctor Who episodes and Sherlock starts acting twitchy. What's Holmes' issue with the Time Lord?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Downtime

Joan heard the front door slam and soon after the predictable call of…

“Wat-SON!”

“Upstairs!” she yelled from the TV room and paused the episode she was watching. In the sudden quiet, she heard two sets of footfalls on the staircase of the brownstone: Sherlock’s familiar, impatient run, followed by the lighter, controlled steps of a second person. They had company. She balanced the bowl of popcorn on her knees and turned to look at the door just as Sherlock appeared at the top of the steps.

“We were right, Watson!” Sherlock was so excited that he practically bounced into the room. “The murder was actually a suicide staged to implicate the au pair…” He paused as he caught sight of the only TV that was currently on. “What are you watching?”

“ _Doctor Who_ ,” she replied and turned to speak to the person waiting in the doorway. “Marcus! Come in, make yourself at home.”

“Sorry about interrupting your night off. Holmes says he has a file here," he too paused, eyes locked on the screen. “What are they wearing on their heads?”

“Gas masks,” Joan replied, turning to look back at the screen which showed a group of people in brightly colored uniforms hiding behind large boxes. “They’re guards on a prison ship that is about to be boarded by the Daleks. It’s just that the mouth part of the gas masks are pushed way back on their heads for some reason. ”

Marcus walked forward to lean on the back of Joan’s chair. “Gas masks, huh? They look more like hospital bed pans.”

Sherlock squinted as if he were trying to place something. “Which Doctor?”

“It was the 1980s - lower tech and a tighter budget,” Joan said, looking up at Marcus. Turning to Sherlock, she held out the bowl of popcorn. “Fifth Doctor. ‘Resurrection of the Daleks.’ You could always pull up some more chairs if you want to watch it with me.”

“Perhaps later.” Sherlock ignored the bowl. “Meanwhile, as Marcus says, he needs the Gibson file. Come on, Marcus!” He turned and bounded back out of the room and downstairs.

“I assume Grace will be released now?” Joan asked as she placed the bowl of popcorn back on the floor and stood up to stretch.

Marcus nodded. “All that’s left is the paperwork.” He stepped back from the chair and pointed toward the TV. “I didn’t know you were a fan.”

“Oren and I used to watch it on PBS when we were kids. It’s funny to see it now. In my memory the episodes were epic in their scale, but in reality they’re a bit like sci-fi B-movies. I mean, if you think the costuming in this one looks odd, you should see what they’re wearing in ‘Robots of Death’ or ‘Terminus.’”

“I have a cousin who’s a big fan of the current show. She even goes to conferences dressed as some of the characters.”

“Oh, so she cosplays? Who as?”

“I don’t know, it's not really my thing. But I’ll show you her Instagram sometime.”

From downstairs they heard Sherlock yell, “Marc-US!”

“Yeah, in a minute,” Marcus yelled back at him. “Is he alright? I thought he was going to do his usual ‘this is how I solved it’ song and dance, but then it was like he couldn’t get outta here fast enough.”

“I don’t know.” Joan said, glancing back at the screen. “Maybe he just doesn’t like the show?”

“Crime waits for no man, Detective Bell!” This yell was followed by the sound of loud banging.

Joan sighed. “Come on, we better see what he’s up to before he tears apart the whole house to get our attention.” She shut off the DVD player and headed downstairs. Marcus Bell followed quickly behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, it was like this, one day when I was supposed to be writing something else I got stuck on the question: Who would be Joan and Sherlock's favorite Doctors? And that evolved into this. 
> 
> So, the general plan here is to write a series of fluffy vignettes of _Elementary_ characters watching _Doctor Who_. But, as I've shown many times in the past, I have NO IDEA how these things will go once I start them. I guess we'll see what we will see.


	2. Marta

“I’m home!” Joan yelled as she hung up her coat.

“Kitchen!” came the faint reply. Joan strolled downstairs and found Sherlock, his back to her, in front of their kitchen table. It had been cleared of its usual clutter to provide space for an experiment. Test tubes filled with different colored liquids dotted the surface, as did a Bunsen burner, hubcap, 1980s era View-Master (with image wheels), an ice pick, and a very large rock.

Joan looked over the odd accumulation of items. “Should I even ask what you’re doing?”

“Come now, Watson, you’re a detective - you tell me,” Sherlock answered, not looking at her as he used a pipette to add a liquid from one test tube to another. “Profitable morning?”

“Yes, I met Marcus’s cousin.”

“Detective Bell has a cousin?” Sherlock mumbled, only half paying attention as he began stabbing the rock vigorously with the ice pick. 

“Several actually, but they don’t all live in New York.” Joan walked over to get a glass of water. “Marta works not far from here at the Carroll Garden Branch of the public library.” 

“Ah, so there’s another public servant in the Bell family?” Sherlock walked past her to yank open one of the kitchen drawers. After pulling out the mortar and pestle, he returned to the table and began to grind into dust some of the fragments he’d chipped away from the large stone. 

Joan nodded even though he couldn’t see it. “Yes, she’s a librarian. We met at a creative writing class they were offering.” When that received no response, Joan decided to test a theory. “Turns out she’s a _Doctor Who_ fan too.”

Sherlock went very still for a moment, but when he spoke his tone was nonchalant. “Indeed? And why is that relevant?”

“Because I invited her over to watch some episodes and I just wanted to let you know beforehand that we were going to have company.” Joan’s lips curved into a small, mischievous smile. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Of course not, why would I mind?” Sherlock returned to grinding the stone dust with a bit more enthusiasm than before. 

“Excellent!” Joan grinned, pulling a DVD out of her purse. “Her library has a surprisingly good Classic Who collection, so I checked one out.”

Sherlock resumed stabbing the rock. He seemed to be grinding his teeth too, although Joan couldn’t be sure of that from where she stood. “Which one?”

“‘Horror of Fang Rock.’” Joan noticed his shoulders relax slightly at that. “Sherlock, are you sure you don’t mind? Because it seems to me like you have an issue with _Doctor Who_.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just a television show.” Sherlock went back to grinding stone fragments. “And a particularly inane one at that,” he said more quietly.

Joan felt sure there was more to it than that, but she was willing to let the issue slide for a moment. She trusted Holmes to tell her if his aversion was based on anything really serious. She made a disapproving harrumphing noise. “Are you sure you’re British?” she asked teasingly. That earned her an annoyed glare.

“Hush Watson, I need to concentrate. A man’s life may depend on the results of this test.” Sherlock carefully added some of the stone dust to one of the test tubes holding a blue liquid. Joan started to ask why he wasn’t doing this test in an actual lab if it was that important when the liquid began to bubble over and create a substantial amount of smoke. Soon the kitchen was full of it and the discussion was forgotten as they both ran around opening windows.

“Sherlock!” Joan yelled as she hung her head out of one window, waiting for the fumes to clear. “Please tell me this stuff isn’t toxic!”

“Not to worry,” Sherlock poked his head out of another open window, “we should be fine.” He held the View-Master up to his eyes and clicked through a few images. “Just as I thought! I’m afraid your TV night will have to wait, Watson. We have a criminal to catch!” 


	3. Fogged In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus, Joan, and Sherlock are trapped on Sisters Island during a case.

Marcus Bell carefully knocked the snow from his boots before stepping inside the stone house. Closing the door behind him, he looked around for any sign of his partners in crime on this most unusual investigation. Someone sneezed in the kitchen, so he headed in that direction.

“You should be in bed, Watson,” he heard Holmes say, the worry clear in his voice. 

“I’m fine! Stop fussing,” came her impatient reply, which was rendered less believable by the coughing fit that followed it. 

Bell turned the corner and saw them - Watson huddled in a chair at the kitchen table, looking miserable, while Holmes paced behind her. The moment they spotted him, they both began talking at the same time.

“Did you reach the Captain?” asked Sherlock.

“Did they catch him?” Joan croaked out before reaching for a nearby cup of tea.

“Yes and yes. I got through to the Captain finally - the reception out here isn’t great - and he’s been in touch with the Jefferson County Sheriff Department. The Alexandria Bay Police have Felix Gavol in custody. Turns out you were right,” he nodded at Sherlock, “he was headed to Boldt Castle. And you were right too,” he glanced at Joan, “Ms. Evans was with him. Seems our museum curator had turned treasure hunter and accomplice to murder.” 

“What about transportation back to the mainland?” Sherlock looked significantly down at Joan, but since she had her back to him she didn’t notice.

“No go on that front, I’m afraid.” He gestured behind him toward the front door. “The fog’s rolling in so we’re stuck here until tomorrow morning at least. Mr. And Mrs. Lower say we can stay in their guest rooms until then.”

Joan sipped her tea. “Are you sure they don’t mind? I mean we are responsible for Mrs. Lower’s brother-in-law being arrested.”

“I’m sure that there’s no other option, unless you wanna try swimming to shore.” Marcus shrugged. “Besides, I think Mrs. Lower is just relieved that Gavol was caught. I get the feeling she knows his temper as well as anyone.”

“Good. Now that’s settled,” Sherlock said, clapping his hands. “I’ll ask our hosts which rooms they would like us to stay in so that Watson can get some rest.” He gave Bell a brief nod and walked quickly past him without waiting for the others to comment.

“Sherlock, I’m fine!” Joan called after him. They heard the front door slam and she sighed.

“He’s right, you don’t sound good.” Marcus closed his notebook and sat down across from her. “Sleep, cough medicine, and some soup are what you need.”

“I thought I was the doctor here.” Joan frowned at him. “I can manage.”

“But you don’t have to, that’s the point. We are stuck in an old lighthouse on an island in the middle of the St. Lawrence River. None of us are going anywhere. There are no cases to solve, no criminals to catch - at least not for tonight. So what? You’ve got something better to do than take care of yourself?”

Joan frowned and wrinkled her nose. “Well when you put it that way,” she said in a small voice.

“It makes sense. Besides,” Marcus smiled at her, “you know he’s not going to drop it until you’re settled.”

She chuckled ruefully. “True. He’ll also end up tearing his hair out trapped here all night with no problems to solve.”

“Let me worry about that,” Marcus replied. They heard the door open and then the sound of Sherlock’s distinctive footsteps. “Speak of the devil…” 

——

An hour later, Joan was snuggled into a twin bed in one of the two small, spare bedrooms in the retired lighthouse. Mrs. Lower had let her borrow an oversized t-shirt and leggings to sleep in and she was propped up on a mountain of pillows that Sherlock had found somewhere. She was a little worried that he might have brought every pillow in the house just for her to use. Outside the window the fog rolled, grey and heavy, obscuring the view of the waterway around them. Periodically she could hear the sounds of fog horns or see lights from ships as they passed, but otherwise the island seemed shrouded in a world of its own. 

There was a knock on the door and a moment later Sherlock appeared, carrying a tray with several dishes balanced on top. He crossed the room and placed the tray on her lap with a flourish.

“Masoor Dal,” he said, pointing toward a large bowl, “courtesy of Mr. Lower, who is evidently a decent cook. Mind you, it’s not nearly spicy enough for my tastes, but Marcus seems to like it. Hopefully it will help clear your sinuses a bit. And Marcus suggested that you might like a grilled cheese sandwich to go with it. So if that bit is rubbish, blame him.”

“It looks wonderful,” Joan began to say but was interrupted by a series of sneezes. Sherlock reached down to steady the tray. “Thank you,” she managed, after the sneezes had stopped.

“Do you need anything else? More tea?”

“I’m fine, go eat something yourself. And please thank Mr. Lower for me. This really is very nice.”

Sherlock smiled and gave a little bounce. Then he turned and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. She listened to his footsteps as he walked back down the stairs to the main living area. Joan had just begun on the soup when she heard the sound of more footsteps. A moment later, there was another knock and this time Marcus entered, carrying a laptop. 

“Sherlock let me borrow this, so I thought I’d bring it up. Marta told me you two had to scrap your _Doctor Who_ fest last week?”

Joan nodded, and carefully scooted over so that he could lay the computer on the bed beside her. “We were supposed to watch ‘The Horror of Fang Rock,’ but Sherlock inadvertently fumigated the brownstone for a case, so we postponed it.”

Marcus opened the laptop and placed it on the other side of her, near the window, so it wouldn’t accidentally fall off the bed. “Yeah well, I thought you might like to watch it now. So I set the episodes to download from iTunes.”

“Marcus! You didn’t have to do that!”

“I know. Chalk it up to an early birthday present.” He winked and reached across her to bring up the program and select the first episode. “According to the summary, the story’s set at a fogged in lighthouse, so this seems like a perfect place to watch it.” As he turned to walk out of the room he called over his shoulder, “And don’t let Sherlock steal the laptop back to work - at least not until you’re ready. Got it?”

Joan gave him a mock salute. “Thank you, Marcus. Really.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, smiling as he closed the door. 

The familiar theme song began to play and Joan sighed contentedly in spite of herself. Then she picked up her spoon and went back to eating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all complete fluff that doesn't further the overall plot in the slightest, but I wanted to write about Watson feeling poorly and being taken care of by Bell and Sherlock.
> 
> And since I can't even write fluff without doing gratuitous research, have some links:
> 
> Sisters Island Lighthouse/Three Sisters Island Lighthouse: <https://www.us-lighthouses.com/displaypage.php?LightID=275>. You can also find out more about it here: <http://www.unc.edu/~rowlett/lighthouse/nyup.htm>.
> 
> The soup came from [today's menu at the Potsdamn Food Co-op](http://www.potsdamcoop.com/content/todays-menu-122116) (which evidently has the best soup in St. Lawrence County, N.Y.).
> 
> Here's a recipe for Masoor Dal: <http://norecipes.com/recipe/masoor-dal>.
> 
> Oh and here's a link to [Boldt Castle.](http://www.boldtcastle.com/visitorinfo/)


	4. Fogged In, Part 2

“What are you doing in here?” Marcus whispered from the doorway. 

Sherlock Holmes didn’t acknowledge the question. Instead he picked up the laptop that had been propped against the window sill. The episode of _Doctor Who_ Watson had been watching had evidently finished some time ago. Marcus looked at where Joan lay, huddled under a pile of quilts, and smiled. He suspected she’d fallen asleep before the end. 

“I’m just checking on her,” Sherlock replied quietly as he closed the computer.

“You mean you’re itching to get back to work. Man, you are so predictable. Just make sure you don’t wake her up.”

Almost on cue she stirred, awoken either by the change of weight on the quilts or the sounds of the two of them in the room. “Cold,” she muttered, shivering a bit as she tried to burrow further under the quilts. 

“Too late for that it seems.” Holmes placed the computer on a nearby dresser and put a comforting hand on top of her head. 

“I’m sure she’ll go back to sleep once we leave…” Marcus paused as he noticed a concerned look on Sherlock’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Holmes had shifted his hand to Watson’s forehead. “She is cold. Worryingly so.”

“Well at least she doesn’t have fever. I’ll see if I can find some more blankets.” 

Abruptly Sherlock Holmes withdrew his hand and began to strip off his clothes. 

“HOLMES!” Bell hissed. “What the hell?”

“Body heat,” Sherlock replied as he removed his sweater and shirt. He paused to consider removing his pants, but seemingly thought better of it and removed his shoes instead. “She needs body heat to warm her up.”

“There’s bound to be other quilts here!”

“Searching will take too long, besides this will allow me to observe her condition and make any necessary adjustments.” He leaned down to speak quietly but clearly in Joan’s ear. “Watson, I’m going to get into bed with you to warm you up. Is that acceptable?”

Joan shifted again and seemed to curl in on herself. “Whatever. Just hurry up, I wanna go back to sleep.”

With a sharp, businesslike nod, Sherlock crawled over her to the side of the bed closest to the window. “Come on, Marcus,” he said nonchalantly as he lifted two of the quilts so that he could slide underneath.

"What?” Marcus was finally startled out of his shock. “What’d you mean ‘come on?’” 

"It’ll be more efficient if there’s two of us, one on either side.” Holmes sat up and indicated the other side of the bed. “So get in.”

“Uh, no,” Marcus laughed. “First off, that’s a twin bed - no way there’s room for all three of us.”

“You and Watson are very…compact. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“HEY!”

“It’ll be snug, true, but she’s worth one night of cramped quarters. Is she not, Detective Bell?” Then Sherlock gave him a look that Marcus had previously only seen him give to Joan, usually when he wanted her to do something she’d already said no to. It was a look that said both “I know I’m right,” and “You know you’re going to do it eventually, so you might as well stop arguing.” It was a look that always seemed to annoy her and Marcus could now completely understand why.

Joan groaned and shivered again. Sherlock’s look became more impatient and insistent. Marcus briefly wondered how they’d gone from Sherlock being unable to call him by his first name to this. Then he shook his head in defeat and began taking off his shoes. “If either of you mention this to the Captain or ANYONE else, so help me…I don’t know what I’ll do, but it’ll be painful.”

“Consider me appropriately cowed, Marcus.” Sherlock lay down and pulled Joan closer to him to make room on the outer edge of the bed. “Beside, you already know that Watson and I can keep a secret.”

Grumbling and still mostly clothed, Marcus Bell lifted the quilts and lay down on the bed. As expected, there wasn’t a lot of room so it took a few moments of small adjustments in order for the three of them to find a configuration that was comfortable. 

When they were finally settled, Watson began giggling. “Gentlemen, I’ve got news for you,” she quoted. “This lighthouse is under attack and by morning we might all be dead.”

“Huh?” asked Bell.

“Watson, are you delirious?” Sherlock moved to check her temperature and nearly smacked Marcus in the face in the process. 

Joan chuckled and opened her eyes to look at Sherlock. “I don’t know. I’m not a teshnician.”

“Is she alright?” Bell leaned over Joan’s shoulder to get a better look at her.

Sherlock made a disgruntled face. “She seems a bit giddy, but I think she’ll be fine if we can warm her up. Although I may leave her to shiver alone if she doesn’t stop quoting _Doctor Who_ at me.”

“Empty threats Rutan! Enjoy your death as I enjoyed killing you.“ Joan laughed again, but it soon devolved into a series of coughs. Then she snuggled into Sherlock, blatantly stealing his warmth. 

“Hmmm, you would like Leela, wouldn’t you?” Sherlock muttered as he moved his arm to make room for her.

“She’s wonderful,” came the mumbled reply. “And I thought you didn’t like _Doctor Who_?”

“I don’t.”

“But you recognize quotes from it.” Marcus moved closer to Watson to keep from falling off the edge of the bed. “And you can even ID who said them, evidently. Sounds to me like you’re a fan.”

“Definitely a fan,” agreed Joan, her head now almost completely hidden under the quilts.

“I am not a fan,” Sherlock said grumpily. He squeezed her lightly. “Go to sleep, Watson. We have a long drive tomorrow.”

“Are you in charge here?” she replied, quoting again.

“No, but I’m full of ideas,” Holmes quoted back at her. “Good night, Watson.”

Joan patted his chest. “Good night, Sherlock.” 

“Yeah, yeah, enough with the ‘good night, John-Boys.’ Some of us are trying to sleep here,” Marcus grumbled as he closed his eyes. 

“Good night, Marcus. And thanks.” Joan’s voice was sleepy now.

“Don’t mention it. Ever." He chuckled. "'Night.” 

And after a few minutes, they were all asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not meant to be a bed-sharing story, but it's turned into one. I blame sanguinity for being a terrible influence.
> 
> You all know that look I'm referring to right? The one from "A Landmark Story" in Season 1?
> 
> All the _Doctor Who_ quotes in this chapter are from "The Horror of Fang Rock.“


End file.
